Irving Penn

Irving Penn, a grand master of American fashion photography whose "less is more" aesthetic combined with a startling sensuality defined a visual style that he applied to designer dresses or fleshy nudes, famous artists or tribal chiefs, cigarette butts or cosmetics jars, many of them now-famous photographs owned by leading art museums, has died. He was 92. Penn died today at his apartment in New York City, said his brother, film director Arthur Penn. The cause was not given. Penn started contributing to Vogue in 1943 and became one of the first commercial photographers to cross the chasm that separated commercial and art photography until the 1970s.

A set of 100 photographs by the late Irving Penn is being donated to the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington. The photos, which are being given by the Irving Penn Foundation, include rare street photographs dating from the 1930s and '40s, images of post-war Europe, and portraits of celebrated figures including Truman Capote, Agnes de Mille and Langston Hughes. The Smithsonian said all of the prints in the set were created while Penn was alive and were personally approved by him. The museum said it will organize an exhibition devoted to Penn, consisting of approximately 160 works, that will open in the fall of 2015, followed by a tour.

Re "Irving Penn, 1917-2009: A giant figure in photography," Obituary, Oct. 8 Irving Penn applied a highly personalized style to many subjects, and he expected the same from others. When, as a teen, I showed Penn my modest portfolio, I was only hoping for a pat on the back. I got a challenge instead. "You're talented," he said, "but I see a lot of other photographers here, not you. Until you have your own vision, you're not going to go far in this business." I left the studio confused but determined to ignore the parents, teachers and classmates who were telling me to "forget that stupid photography."

"I didn't bring you to Paris to make art; I brought you here to do the buttons and bows," Harper's Bazaar editor Carmel Snow famously snapped at photographer Lillian Bassman during a fashion shoot for the magazine in the late 1940s. But Bassman's fashion photographs are considered to be among the greatest of the 20th century — in a league with other creative masters, including Richard Avedon and Irving Penn — and an inspiration to such designers as John Galliano and the subject of exhibitions around the globe.

A 1950 photograph by Irving Penn shows a London seamstress with the tools of her trade -- thread, pins, tape measure, fabric -- her right hand casually tucked inside one pocket, her other shrouded inside a partially sewn sleeve. Plainly dressed and wearing stereotypically sensible shoes, so different from the clothing worn by the fashionable people likely to employ her, she looks implacably into the camera's lens. The ruddy seamstress wears black-rimmed glasses, helpful to her detailed labor.

There will always be beauty, style and grace on the pages of fashion magazines and books, but the death of Irving Penn this month marks the end of an era of seminal photography. Penn, along with Richard Avedon, who died in 2004, practically invented modern fashion photography -- a place where art meets commerce -- in the mid-20th century. The influence of both artists -- along with a small group of mavericks who came after them -- figures prominently in fashion editorial and advertising campaigns to this day. Their striking images shaped how the world saw fashion and have long been ingrained in our psyches.

The latest addition to the J. Paul Getty Museum's vast collection of photographs is the master set of Irving Penn's largest body of work, "The Small Trades." Initially produced in 1950-51 and refined over subsequent decades, the portfolio of 252 full-length portraits depicts skilled tradespeople dressed for work and equipped with their tools. Each subject is portrayed like a statue, standing in the center of a plain background in natural light. Penn, an American who became known as a fashion and advertising photographer, shot the first pictures as an assignment from Vogue magazine in Paris.

Thank you and Denise Hamilton for the article on Valentin Berezhkov (Times, April 12.) My mother, the former Elizabeth Gibbons, was a fashion model in New York during the Second World War years. She posed for such celebrated artists and photographers as Man Ray, John Engstead, Louise Dahl Wolfe, Jean Cocteau and Irving Penn. My mother was a Red Cross volunteer stationed in the Philippines during some of those years, and knew Harry L. Hopkins and his wife. My uncle, Thomas Hanson, was in the Secret Service guarding F.D. Roosevelt and his family.

I am writing a book based upon the reminiscences and memories of fashion models who posed from 1937 until 1950. I would like to hear from Meg Mundy and others from the "Twelve Most Beautiful Women," shot in 1947 by Irving Penn. I would like to hear from any models who, like my mother, Elizabeth Gibbons-Hanson, posed for such artists and photographers as Man Ray, George Platt Lynnes, Jean Cocteau, Louise Dahl-Wolfe and John Engsteadt. I would also like to hear from anyone who knew George White, head of the narcotics agency until his retirement in the '60s.

A platinum-palladium print of Penn's image will be included in the fall auction preview at Christie's Beverly Hills Oct. 3-6. * Conde Nast, the parent company of Vogue, still provides a full-time studio for Irving Penn because the fashion magazine publishes new work by him regularly. Now approaching his 90th birthday, Penn has photographed for Vogue continuously since 1943. This longevity is the result of an equilibrium Penn has maintained throughout his career.

There will always be beauty, style and grace on the pages of fashion magazines and books, but the death of Irving Penn this month marks the end of an era of seminal photography. Penn, along with Richard Avedon, who died in 2004, practically invented modern fashion photography -- a place where art meets commerce -- in the mid-20th century. The influence of both artists -- along with a small group of mavericks who came after them -- figures prominently in fashion editorial and advertising campaigns to this day. Their striking images shaped how the world saw fashion and have long been ingrained in our psyches.

Re "Irving Penn, 1917-2009: A giant figure in photography," Obituary, Oct. 8 Irving Penn applied a highly personalized style to many subjects, and he expected the same from others. When, as a teen, I showed Penn my modest portfolio, I was only hoping for a pat on the back. I got a challenge instead. "You're talented," he said, "but I see a lot of other photographers here, not you. Until you have your own vision, you're not going to go far in this business." I left the studio confused but determined to ignore the parents, teachers and classmates who were telling me to "forget that stupid photography."

Irving Penn, a grand master of American fashion photography whose "less is more" aesthetic combined with a startling sensuality defined a visual style that he applied to designer dresses or fleshy nudes, famous artists or tribal chiefs, cigarette butts or cosmetics jars, many of them now-famous photographs owned by leading art museums, has died. He was 92. Penn died today at his apartment in New York City, said his brother, film director Arthur Penn. The cause was not given. Penn started contributing to Vogue in 1943 and became one of the first commercial photographers to cross the chasm that separated commercial and art photography until the 1970s.

A 1950 photograph by Irving Penn shows a London seamstress with the tools of her trade -- thread, pins, tape measure, fabric -- her right hand casually tucked inside one pocket, her other shrouded inside a partially sewn sleeve. Plainly dressed and wearing stereotypically sensible shoes, so different from the clothing worn by the fashionable people likely to employ her, she looks implacably into the camera's lens. The ruddy seamstress wears black-rimmed glasses, helpful to her detailed labor.

The latest addition to the J. Paul Getty Museum's vast collection of photographs is the master set of Irving Penn's largest body of work, "The Small Trades." Initially produced in 1950-51 and refined over subsequent decades, the portfolio of 252 full-length portraits depicts skilled tradespeople dressed for work and equipped with their tools. Each subject is portrayed like a statue, standing in the center of a plain background in natural light. Penn, an American who became known as a fashion and advertising photographer, shot the first pictures as an assignment from Vogue magazine in Paris.

A platinum-palladium print of Penn's image will be included in the fall auction preview at Christie's Beverly Hills Oct. 3-6. * Conde Nast, the parent company of Vogue, still provides a full-time studio for Irving Penn because the fashion magazine publishes new work by him regularly. Now approaching his 90th birthday, Penn has photographed for Vogue continuously since 1943. This longevity is the result of an equilibrium Penn has maintained throughout his career.

If Irving Penn has a problem, it probably resides somewhere in the realm of excess virtuosity and unusual range. Now in his mid-70s, he is still photographing for Vogue magazine, where he has been at it since 1943. That suggests he is a fashion photographer, and that's right, but that aspect of his work plays but a scant part in the retrospective just opened at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Good thing, too.

"I didn't bring you to Paris to make art; I brought you here to do the buttons and bows," Harper's Bazaar editor Carmel Snow famously snapped at photographer Lillian Bassman during a fashion shoot for the magazine in the late 1940s. But Bassman's fashion photographs are considered to be among the greatest of the 20th century — in a league with other creative masters, including Richard Avedon and Irving Penn — and an inspiration to such designers as John Galliano and the subject of exhibitions around the globe.

Thank you and Denise Hamilton for the article on Valentin Berezhkov (Times, April 12.) My mother, the former Elizabeth Gibbons, was a fashion model in New York during the Second World War years. She posed for such celebrated artists and photographers as Man Ray, John Engstead, Louise Dahl Wolfe, Jean Cocteau and Irving Penn. My mother was a Red Cross volunteer stationed in the Philippines during some of those years, and knew Harry L. Hopkins and his wife. My uncle, Thomas Hanson, was in the Secret Service guarding F.D. Roosevelt and his family.

If Irving Penn has a problem, it probably resides somewhere in the realm of excess virtuosity and unusual range. Now in his mid-70s, he is still photographing for Vogue magazine, where he has been at it since 1943. That suggests he is a fashion photographer, and that's right, but that aspect of his work plays but a scant part in the retrospective just opened at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Good thing, too.